


Unfinished Chapters

by CherriOnTop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bars, Car Accident, Cas in a coma, Cigarettes, Flirty Dean, Gas Station, Hospital, Hurt!Cas, Incomplete, Kid!Castiel, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Never finished, Teen!Cas, Teen!Dean, creepy man, crippled, injured!Cas, long term boyfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:25:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherriOnTop/pseuds/CherriOnTop
Summary: Snippets I've written over the years that may never be completed. All chapters are unrelated and vary in length.





	1. Distant Memories

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: There is rape between Castiel's older brother, Bart, and Castiel. Minor character deaths. 
> 
> This work is unfinished and ends rather abruptly, which will be a theme with most of these stories. 
> 
> Unrelated to all other chapters. 
> 
> Titled Cas is in a Coma in my computer.
> 
> Word count: 6,825

When Castiel awakes, he's sitting at his mother's table. There's various cookie cutters around him, and powdered sugar all over the surface of the table. His mother is standing at the stove, peeping into the oven, checking on cookies inside that are almost done. She turns around, and her eyes are soft and sweet, her hair the rich brown Castiel remembered her having years ago. She smiles at him as she comes over to him, ruffling his hair. 

Castiel doesn't feel anything, and looking down, all he can see is that he's sitting on top of a smaller version of himself. In fact, Castiel seems to go right through this younger version. Startled, he stands, moving right through his mother, too. Something seems to be off, and Castiel isn't sure if he's really awake or not. He pinches himself once, twice, even three times, but nothing happens to the scene around him other than the fact that his skin turns red from the abuse. 

In confusion, Castiel moves to pick up one of the cookie cutters, and he's surprised to see that he can pick it up, but at the same time, nothing has changed from the table. The cookie cutter he grabbed is still there, but it's in his hand, too. He sets it down somewhere else, and to his amazement, it disappears from his view. Castiel isn't sure what's going on anymore, but his mother's voice draws him back to the scene playing out right beside him. 

Castiel remembers this day with some fuzziness. Little Castiel is talking, and his small childish voice makes Castiel smile. "Mommy, why do we use sugar?" He looks up at her with his wide, blue eyes, and Castiel can see her heart visibly melt as she leans over to kiss his forehead. 

"Well, baby, it's because it keeps the rolling pin and the cutters from sticking to the dough," she explained as she pinched a bit of the white powder on the table top. "Flour does the trick just fine, but powdered sugar tastes better, doesn't it?" The little boy giggled and nodded, opening his mouth as his mother sprinkled the powder onto his tongue. Castiel- the real one- can feel a warmth spread in his chest as he watches, longing to go back to these precious and innocent little memories. 

The timer goes off on the oven, and the woman walks over to it and takes the cookies out. Little Castiel hops off the chair to waddle over to it and jump so he could peek at the cookies. His mother picked him up to look and the child smiles widely. "It smells so good!" He says, his teeth poking out into his smile. His mother kisses his forehead and speaks softly. Castiel watches for a moment longer before he goes towards the door to the dining room, wondering if his other family members are home. 

The moment that Castiel steps through the door, he's suddenly in his old room. He's watching himself sit on his bed, no older than ten years. He's curled up in a ball half under his covers, crying. Downstairs he can hear his brother and his father yelling at one another, the sound drifting up to Castiel's room. Castiel remembers when this happened-how often it happened, too. They always seemed to fight about something and tonight it seemed to be about how often Michael isn't home. 

Castiel was never really close to Michael, who was almost eight years older than he was. Michael had just gotten out of high school and he constantly went out with his friends, partying and getting drunk, coming home late and making a lot of noise. His parents were angry with this, and they made sure he knew. Unfortunately, Castiel had to endure the arguing and it scared him because he didn't want his family to fall apart. They all knew that Michael would only get worse as time went on because Michael never really seemed to care about having a good and useful future. He wanted to live in the moment constantly. 

Slowly, Castiel walked over to his old bed and sat next to the child version of himself. He reached out to touch the boy, but his hand went right through. Castiel wished he could comfort the boy, but with this weird dream thing, it was impossible. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, kid," he speaks softly, even though the younger him doesn't even seem to hear him. "But it doesn't really get better. Just stick it out, though, you'll be alright." 

He takes a look around the room-the one he lived in when he was still living with his parents. The walls are a dark crimson color, various pictures he'd drawn hung up on them. Castiel had always liked to draw, and he'd been improving a lot since he'd started. Castiel's wall was full of drawings that still looked childish, but were better than what he knew other kids could do. Drawing had always brought him comfort and made him proud. 

Looking at them now, he reflects on how much he's improved since this time. He still wasn't perfect, but that was the fun of it. He was getting better and that was all that mattered. Castiel's fingers reach out to touch the papers, and he's surprised to actually feel the texture below his fingertips. He tries to pull one off, and it comes off, but it's as if he's got his own items in this world and not affecting the ones in this strange reality. 

Suddenly, Michael is stomping up the stairs and the crying from the boy on the bed cuts off immediately. The door next to his is slammed shut and both the older and the younger Castiel wince at the force Michael has. The little Castiel wipes his eyes and crawls out of the bed, going over to the door and cracking it open. Castiel watches as he opens the door and scurries down the hallway and to the stairs. Castiel goes to follow him, but when he steps out of the room, he's back in it. Only, the lights are off and the body in the bed appears to be asleep. 

Not much has changed in the room from when he'd just stepped out, but now there's more works of art on the wall and some have been removed. The fan is on near the bed, blowing on the sleeping Castiel in the bed. Castiel can't tell what's significant about this point in time until there's footsteps patting down the hallway and the door creaks open slowly and quietly. Castiel freezes with the realization of what's about to happen to the boy. He wants to run to himself and shake him away, tell him to run and hide, but he knows it's useless. He can't stop any of this. 

Bart stands in the doorway of his room, looking at his little brother. Castiel can't really see his face in the dark lighting, but he's sure he's grinning. The older brother closes the door behind him and tip toes over to the bed. He's got something in his hand, and Castiel realizes with a sick stomach that it's a small strip of fabric. The older sibling is still fully dressed and Castiel knows that he just came home from work. 

Bart gently shakes Castiel awake, shushing the smaller boy when he murmurs his brother's name sleepily. Castiel- the real one- is already shaking as he looks at the twelve year old boy in the bed, tears in his eyes. He doesn't want to watch, but when he tries to step out of the room, he's just entered back into it, as if this weird force was keeping him here, forcing him to relive this awful moment. 

The little Castiel's a little confused when Bart forces the fabric between his lips and into his mouth, tying it tightly behind the boy's head. Bart, who's nineteen now, rolls Castiel onto his stomach, who's still a bit sleepy at one o'clock in the morning. Bart removes his belt and uses it to tie both of Castiel's wrists to the headboard, and that's what really catches Castiel's attention that something is wrong here. That Bart's about to do something awful. 

Little Castiel struggles against the belt, and Bart tries to relax him by touching his back and his sides, but it's no use. Castiel's scared and Bart isn't going to back off. Slowly, the older boy removes Castiel's pants, and then his underwear, tossing them onto the floor before removing his own. The real Castiel turns away, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a sob at the same time the Castiel on the bed does when his brother forces his way in. 

Castiel can almost feel the burn of the stretch himself, the way that Bart's hands were almost constantly rubbing all over his body in a caress, the way that his head was forced into his pillow to further muffle his cries and screams. 

He can barely stand to be in the room while this is happening, while he knows his virginity is being stolen from him right behind his back. He covers his ears as he cries, eyes still screwed shut as he prays from this to all be over. 

And it is only minutes later. Bart whispers threats to Castiel as he pulls out and takes his belt and fabric back, leaving Castiel there to cry. Bart slips from the room and back to his own, not once looking back at his hurt little brother. But Castiel does. He watches as the boy cries for several minutes at the lingering pain, wanting to curl up but it hurts too bad to do so. Castiel wants to cradle him in his arms and tell him about how he only has to wait another year or two and Gabriel will find out and call the cops. But he can't because the other boy won't be able to hear him. The other boy won't know that his brother will soon be rotting in jail for what he's done to Castiel. But he doesn't have to because no matter what happens to Bart, the damage to Castiel has been done already, and there was no way he could heal those wounds. 

Castiel watches as the younger him pulls the covers over himself as blood trickles from his rear. He doesn't care, though, he'll throw the sheets out later. Castiel waits until the boy is asleep before leaving the room, almost afraid to find out what will happen when he does. 

The whole scene changes, and Castiel's no longer at home. He's fourteen now, and it's three days into his freshman year. There's another boy, a sophomore, named Crowley, and the older boy has Castiel pinned against the wall. Castiel's things are scattered all around the empty floor, but more importantly, Castiel's beloved sketchbook is in Crowley's hand. Crowley is going through the pages as the blue eyed boy squirms and reaches for the book desperately. 

The older Castiel watches from a little ways away, remembering what's going to happen and how the smaller Castiel is going to have his heart crushed. And just like Castiel pictured, Crowley tears the pages in half right there in front of Castiel and throws them to the ground carelessly. Castiel, who had tried to keep strong the whole time, is now sobbing out as he struggles in vain to stop the older boy from destroying the rest. 

Castiel watches as Crowley laughs and throws the papers around as Castiel tries to chase them frantically, the tears streaming down his face. Crowley is still laughing as he delivers a kick to Castiel's side- the first time he's ever been hit- and walks away as if he didn't just tear Castiel's heart out. That he didn't just destroy hours of hard work and feeling of pride in Castiel's work. That he didn't just make Castiel realize how hard high school is going to be for him. 

Castiel kneels down to pick up a sheet, though there's still one on the floor. His eyes scan over the sketch of what used to be a picture of his mother, now torn in half. It's not bad at all, though Castiel's missed several details. He sighs and drops the paper, watching as it disappeared straight away. The other Castiel is still collecting the pictures when the real him walks away, down the hall. He goes to his next class, though no one else is in the halls. They all seem to have disappeared. 

The door is closed, but it opens easily when he pushes on it. Once his foot enters the empty room, he's at the hospital. There's no one else in the room except him and the younger version of himself as well as a body on the bed. Castiel recognizes her right away, since it's fresher in his mind. His mother looks pale and ashy, her hair starting to become gray wisps atop her head, and though she's dying in the bed, her eyes are still bright and full of love as she looks at her youngest son. 

Castiel moves to stand where the younger one of him is, looking down at his mother. He's just turned fifteen the day before, and now his mother was in the hospital. She was in a car accident, but she doesn't look too bad other than her broken arm. Her good hand is clutched tightly in Castiel's, and neither of them have to say anything to know that this is it. 

He doesn't remember where his family are, but he doesn't really care, either. This was his moment and he wasn't willing to share it with anyone else. His mother strokes the back of Castiel's hand with her thumb and she smiles at her son, who's got tears in his eyes. He's trying to be strong for her, knowing he will cry the moment the last breath has left her body. 

"My brave little boy," she whispers with her dying breath, gently squeezing his hand before her eyes close and she's gone just like that. Castiel starts sobbing, but he doesn't let go of her hand, squeezing so tight that his knuckles turn white. The real Castiel wishes he could hug himself, knowing how awful it had been to watch her die right in front of his eyes. She'd helped him get through so much, she was his best friend in the world, not that he'd had any others. And now she was gone and he'd be left alone for a while. 

Nurses rush into the room and Castiel's torn apart by Michael, who's actually decided to show up for once. Michael carries the sobbing Castiel out and away from the dead body of their mother. Castiel goes to follow, but, again, as he steps out of the room, he's no longer at the hospital. 

Castiel's in first period, math, when the door opens and the most beautiful boy Castiel had ever seen comes walking in. He strides confidently over to the teacher sitting at the desk and the two talk for a while in hushed voices. Castiel tries not to stare as he gets his things ready for when class starts. The real Castiel goes over to the desk to hear what they're saying, but he can't hear a thing. All the papers on the table are blank, though Castiel was absolutely sure that the teacher had been writing since before he'd arrived to the class. 

When the bell rings, the two boys stand up and go to the front of the classroom. "Class, this is Dean Winchester, and he'll be joining our class," the teacher says, patting Dean's shoulders gently. Dean's eyes met Castiel's for a moment and the real Castiel could almost see the way he inhaled and stood up just a tiny bit taller than before. And then those gorgeous green eyes moved on until they settled on Anna Milton, one of the popular girls that Castiel couldn't stand. He gave her a wink and she giggled, fingers playing with strands of her red hair. 

Castiel remembered how his hopes had plummeted. There were few gay boys in the school, and most of them were popular and also taken. Castiel, however, was single and a total loser. Of course Dean wasn't gay, and of course he wouldn't take an interest in Castiel. The fifteen year old boy turned back down to his book as Dean took his seat a couple rows down from Castiel. The real Castiel wanted to pat him on the back and tell him to just wait, but he couldn't do anything but watch as he started doing math problems. 

After a while, Castiel gets bored of watching himself complete problems with imaginary numbers and heads for the door, glancing back only once before leaving. He's transported to the school garden, which is empty and barren. The school didn't actually have a garden until Castiel had requested one and promised to look after it. So they'd gotten it plowed out for him and he stayed after school every day to water and pick weeds. 

Today was no different, the sun shining down on his back and sweat dripping down his face. He was on his hands and knees in the dirt, picking weeds and tossing them into a pile. Castiel came and sat down next to himself, noticing that no dirt stuck to him. It was a few minutes of watching before Dean came up to him, gently tapping him on the shoulder. Castiel was startled and looked up from his work, his cheeks turning red when he saw Dean. 

The light haired boy gave a friendly smile when he saw it was Castiel, and his shoulders relaxed in relief. "Hey, Castiel, right?" He asked, his teeth poking into his smile. Castiel nods, stunned that Dean is actually talking to him and knows his name. "Awesome. I, um- Y-You're good with math, aren't you?" 

The boy could only nod stupid again and Castiel wanted to nudge himself and tell him to speak up. But sadly he could only watch as he nodded shyly. 

"Awesome. I mean, uh, cool." Dean blushed as he looked down at Castiel, who could barely maintain eye contact. "Do you think you could, uh, help me with mine? I'm afraid I'm not so good at it. But you don't have to if you don't want to, I mean, you barely know me.." 

Castiel smiled at Dean and moved forward. "Of c-course I'll help you." The real Castiel watched as Dean pulled out his homework and the two boys sat in the grass to go over it, working through it slowly. Castiel helped when Dean got confused, but he never made Dean feel stupid. Castiel noticed that Dean's cheeks were almost constantly pink, and he realized now how shy Dean was being rather than how confident he'd been when flirting with the popular girls like Anna and Lisa. 

It was only half an hour later when they finished, Dean smiling and thanking Castiel as he tucked his homework away. Castiel told Dean that he could come to him anytime he had trouble, then admitted that he was here in the garden hours after school got out. Dean's smile only seemed to grow at that, and he nodded as he shouldered his bag. Dean said his goodbye and even called him 'Cas' before he left, leaving Castiel a blushing mess by the dirt. 

The real Castiel smiled at his old self before getting up to leave and find a door so he could move on. He'd started to understand that he couldn't really go anywhere where the younger him wasn't at, and once he stepped through a door, he'd leave the current situation and move to a new one. So he did just that, opening the door to the shed by the garden. He stepped in, but the shed was empty and he was no where new. 

Confused, Castiel stepped back out, closing the door before opening it and trying again with the same result. Baffled, he went back to the fake him, sitting back down in the dirt and tried to figure out why he was still here, or why he was going through his memories in the first place. Perhaps this really was a dream because he knew this couldn't be real. 

Hours passed before Castiel finally stopped picking weeds and stood up. He brushed his hands on his pants and collected his things as he started walking home. It wasn't until Castiel turned onto the block that the real Castiel finally understood why he was still here and his stomach dropped. Two cop cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck were all in front of his house. 

The two Castiel's rushed into the house where Gabriel and Raphael were standing crying. Gabriel was full out sobbing, but Raphael just let the tears slip down his face without a sound. Castiel ignored his older brother of the two in favor for grabbing Gabriel's hands and shaking him gently. "What's wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?" But no matter how many times Castiel asked, Gabriel couldn't answer between his sobs, and Raphael didn't even so much as look at the younger boy. 

Castiel didn't have to wait much longer until the paramedics were bringing down a body on a stretcher. Michael's body. Castiel's face became as white as his brother's face, mouth agape in shock. Everything else moved in a blur, even for the real Castiel. He could see Gabriel pushing him out the door and into the car, Raphael getting in the front seat as Castiel cried in the back, still not really sure what was going on. 

It wasn't until they got to the hospital that Castiel found out. Drug overdose, Raphael had told him, his jaw clenched. And then he'd been forced to sit in a chair in a waiting room until the doctors called their name. The real Castiel tried to read the doctor's sheet to see what it said about his brother, but it was blank, much to his surprise. All the papers in the room seemed to be. 

He was drawn back when the doctor started speaking to the three brothers. All their faces crumbled in unison when the doctor informed them that Michael had passed away. Castiel and Gabriel started crying, and Raphael just walked away, probably to go find their father at work and tell him about his son, not that he really even cared anyway. The police came in only five minutes later to give Gabriel a piece of paper that contained the suicide note Michael had left for them. 

Castiel tried to look at it and read it, but to his frustration, it, too was blank. Gabriel started crying harder when he read it and refused to give it to Castiel, who begged to see what it said. Castiel, the older one, still didn't know what it actually said. No one had ever let him so much as touch it. With a huff, Castiel went to the main entrance of the hospital and stepped out, the scene finally changing like Castiel was used to. 

Several months had passed since the last memory. Castiel was in the garden again, the flowers all bloomed and pretty, creating a sweet aroma. Castiel remembered how often Dean had come to him for help on homework and such, the two growing rather close in the short time, especially after Michael had died. 

Castiel sat down next to himself, who was making a flower crown. Dean was sitting across from himself with flowers in his lap, trying to make a crown, too, though failing miserable. Any work that he had done already was because Castiel had done it for him. Dean's was made of pretty pinks and purples, but Castiel's was white daisies, his favorite flower. Castiel's crown was nearly done and Dean whined helplessly. 

"Caaaas," he complained as he looked at his friend. "I can't do this. Will you help me?" Castiel smiled and told Dean to wait as he finished his crown, putting it on his head and coming to help Dean, showing him how it was supposed to go for the tenth time. This time, however, Dean got the hang of it, and with minor help from Castiel, his crown was sitting on top of his blonde hair like Castiel's was. "Thanks, Cas, it looks beautiful." 

Young Castiel smiled widely and looked over Dean, his eyes fond and full of longing. Castiel remembered how he'd ached that day, wishing he could have Dean as his boyfriend. The two boys talked for a while, Dean poking at Castiel's sides to make him laugh, eventually pinning him down and tickling him merciless, grinning as Castiel became a giggling mess. 

Castiel begged Dean to stop as he laughed and squirmed under the bigger boy, though the real Castiel knew he didn't really want him to stop. He was loving every minute of Dean's attention, no matter how small it was. But after a while, Dean let up and just hovered over the blue eyed boy, staring down at him with a large smile as Castiel tried to catch his breath, still a little giggly. 

And before the younger Castiel knew it, Dean was leaning down and his lips touched to Castiel's. Dean's lips were rough yet gentle, his hands gently holding to Castiel's hips, just to touch him. Castiel's eyes fluttered shut and he kissed back softly, his heart hammering in his chest. The real Castiel watched with a smile, remembering how happy he'd been during this moment and how magical it had seemed. 

When Dean pulled back, he was still smile, but it had become more nervous and shy, as if he thought he'd done something wrong. Castiel could only smile softly at how incredibly dorky Dean really was and pulled him down again to have another kiss. Dean pressed his body against Castiel's, but not enough to crush him under his weight. Castiel's hands remained in Dean's hair, fingers curling in it to hold Dean there as if Dean would leave if he didn't. He wouldn't, but Castiel couldn't be too sure. They were both lost in one another, the world disappearing around them, and the real Castiel actually started feeling a bit dizzy when the world started to get fuzzy around him. 

He stumbled to his feet and headed for the door of the shed, which was rapidly disappearing. Castiel pulled the door open and stepped in, relieved when the scene changed around him and he was now over at Dean's house. They were both on the couch playing Xbox, Dean sprawled out against the armrest with Castiel in his lap between his legs, leaning back against Dean's chest with his head under Dean's chin. Castiel walked over and sat down beside them to watch. Call of Duty was on the screen, though Castiel didn't really care at the moment as he watched the two boyfriends. 

They'd been dating for almost four months now after the flower incident when Dean had asked him out. Castiel couldn't remember ever being as happy as he was when he was with Dean. Dean made him smile and laugh all the time despite how sad he usually felt. Dean had helped with his bullies at school and now Castiel's bruises were beginning to fade, Dean promising that they would never come back. 

They played the game until a car pulled into the driveway and Dean's body tensed, quickly getting up, forcing Castiel up too, since he was in his lap. Dean quickly shut off the game and tried to push Castiel upstairs to his room, who was so confused on what was going on. The fear in his eyes worried him, though. 

The door opened and Dean's father, John, came into the room, his jaw clenched tightly. Castiel hadn't ever met Dean's father, but looking at him now, he was slightly afraid. He didn't look friendly at all. John's eyes fell on the two boys, his eyes narrowing. "And what's this?" He spoke gruffly, motioning to Castiel, who didn't move at all, his hand holding tight to Dean's wrist. 

"Just a friend," Dean mumbled, lowering his eyes to the ground. Castiel put on a smile and stepped forward, holding out a hand and praying that it wouldn't start shaking. 

"I'm Castiel Novak. It's a pleasure to meet you.' 

He hoped to make a good impression, but the man just glared at him and Castiel shrank back again behind Dean. John ordered Dean into the kitchen before heading in the direction himself. The moment he was gone, Dean gently wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and kissed his forehead, quietly telling him to stay here and not get involved. Then he left, the real Castiel following him. 

Once he stepped into the kitchen, John and Dean both disappeared, and Castiel stepped back in shock. He went back to the smaller him and could hear the two speaking in quiet voices, though he didn't know what they were saying to each other. The younger him was shaking badly, especially after John raised his voice and the sound of skin on skin echoed through the room. Castiel's whole body went rigid and he stepped backwards just a little, struggling to stop shaking. 

Dean came back after a few minutes, his cheek bright red as John brushed past to his room. Dean held Castiel close and kissed the top of his head, trying to soothe the terrified boy the best he could by rubbing his back and arms. Eventually Castiel did, but Dean didn't let go. Castiel- the older one- watched as Dean cried without a sound into Castiel's hair. Neither of them needed to say anything, and neither wanted to be the first to let go. 

Eventually Dean did pull back, and he smiled weakly at his boyfriend before leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I don't want you here when he's here, baby," he whispered, stroking Castiel's cheek gently. The smaller boy could only nod and hug Dean back tightly before stepping back. They whispered their goodbyes before Castiel stepped out of the house slowly. Dean disappeared right in front of Castiel's eyes, who hadn't moved since Dean got back. He blinked again in surprise before turning to leave the house. 

The minute Castiel stepped outside, rain started to pour down. Castiel didn't get wet, but the younger version of himself was soaked from head to toe. Castiel knew that he'd been here for a while once he remembered what was happening. His father had locked him out of the house. The boy was sitting on the porch, trying to seek any shelter the roof had to offer. It wasn't much, and it didn't do him much good. 

Castiel came and sat down next to the shivering boy, wishing he could give himself shelter and help him dry off just a little bit. The time passed slowly and the rain poured harder before Castiel finally pulled out his phone and called his boyfriend. The real Castiel watched with a smile how the other him smiled widely at just the sound of Dean's voice through the phone. They talked only for a few minutes and Castiel could remember how Dean had been furious when he'd heard Castiel had been thrown out into the rain by his father. He'd promised to be over in a few minutes, and, true to his word, Dean's beloved Impala pulled up beside the house. 

Little Castiel got up and immediately hurried over to the car, slipping into the passenger seat, where towels had been laid down on the seats and a few left over to wrap about Castiel. The real Castiel hopped into the back to watch as Dean wrapped the towels firmly around him, pressing kisses to the side of Castiel's wet face as he worked gently. Castiel was shivering bad enough to distract him from the kisses, paying more attention to the warmth being wrapped around his shaking frame. 

It wasn't long before Dean drove home, carrying Castiel in bridal style. Castiel giggled softly and clung to Dean, smiling as Dean gently laid Castiel on the couch, which was also covered in towels. Then Dean leaned down and peppered kisses all over Castiel's face and neck, hands resting on his hips as Castiel laughed some more at the ticklish feeling. 

After a while Dean stopped and started drying Castiel off before taking him upstairs and starting a warm bath for him, claiming that he didn't want Castiel getting sick from the cold of the rain. He left Castiel to bathe before getting clean clothes. Castiel- the real one- sat on the counter and watched himself sit there in the tub. 

"Hey, things are going to start getting tough, Cas," Castiel spoke to the boy in the tub, who couldn't even hear him. "But just remember to keep your head up. You survived what Bart did to you, and when Crowley destroyed your sketchbook, even Michael's suicide. You're stronger than you think, and things are going to start getting rough, but you'll be okay, I promise. Dean's always going to be there for you no matter what. Don't ever doubt that." He smiled softly at the boy in the tub, sighing softly. 

Dean came in a few minutes later with a pair of his clothes, not looking any lower than Castiel's head as he set them down on the ground near the tub. He leaned over to kiss Castiel's head, telling him that he'd make something warm for them both to eat and then disappeared out the door again. Castiel tried to follow him, but once he stepped out the door, Dean had vanished. He groaned in frustration and went back to his younger self, who was starting to get out of the water and dry off again. It was a boring few minutes of watching himself dress before they both headed downstairs to find Dean. 

Dean was out on the couch, two mugs of steaming hot chocolate on the coffee table. He held out his arms for Castiel, who willingly went into them. They both snuggled into one another to get comfortable, and Dean draped a blanket around both of them to keep them warm. Sam, Dean's little brother, was out with friends, and Dean had mentioned that he'd be staying the night, too. 

So the two settled down, nuzzled in one other, and prepared to stay for a long time. The real Castiel came and sat down by their feet to watch as Dean pressed small kisses to Castiel's head, always keeping them soft and loving. Neither of them said anything for a long time, just enjoying one another's company. It was at least half an hour before Castiel started talking, just randomly spouting out things that had happened to him. Being raped by Bart, his mother's passing, Michael's passing, everything. Dean listened without saying anything, but tearing up often as he held his boyfriend tighter. Castiel was proud of himself for not crying until after he was done talking, and the two just clung to one another and cried quietly, being the comfort the other needed. 

When they had actually stopped crying, Dean spoke up. He told Castiel about how he had lost his mother when he was four due to a fire that started in Sam's nursery. Luckily, he, Sam, and his father had all escaped with their lives, but losing their mother was a hard blow on all of them. John turned harder on his boys, started drinking more. Dean was left to take care of Sam most of the time, and he did a great job at it. 

When Dean turned seven, John started to abuse him a bit, shoving him around and hitting him from time to time. To make him stronger, he claimed. But to Dean, it felt like disappointment. Like he couldn't do things right no matter how hard he tried. It caused Dean to be depressed for several years. When Dean turned sixteen, they moved to where they currently were, and Dean started up school. John came home less and less frequently, but, fortunately, the hits became fewer. Dean missed having a father. A real one, but he figured this was better than what he used to have. 

He told Castiel how he put up his wall of acting cool and flirty to hide what he was feeling deep down, having been taught to always shove those down as if they didn't matter. But with Castiel, he felt free to express himself and be himself, and it was so much freer than he'd ever imagined. Castiel had cried when Dean told him about how close he'd been to killing himself, to picking up one of his father's guns and putting it to his head. Castiel had cried when Dean told him that the only thing stopping him had been the pretty blue eyed boy who sometimes helped him with his math homework, though it was mostly just an excuse to talk to Castiel. 

So they cried some more together, holding each other and just letting their tears flow freely. That was all that happened for a long time, not that either of them minded. It was good to let out all these feelings and to not have someone judge them for doing so. The real Castiel just watched them with a smile, thinking about their future together and remembering everything that he'd gone through. 

Castiel ended up falling asleep on Dean and then everything froze, so Castiel figured it was time for him to leave. He stood up and cast a lingering look at the two lovers before heading out the door. The scene was back at school, in the hallway by Dean's locker. Dean was talking to two boys, Alistair and Azazel, who were two big players on the football team. They were trying to convince Dean into joining when Castiel wiggled his way in between them to get to Dean. They shared a brief, distracted kiss as Dean tried to continue the conversation going on. 

Alistair was doing most of the talking, but Azazel was busy looking at Castiel, a small spark in his eyes of what Castiel recognized as lust. It gave him chills, and he held tight to Dean's arm tightly, but not hard enough to pull him from the conversation. Azazel didn't stop looking at Castiel until the two boys looked away, and Dean wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. 

"Hey, baby," Dean smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the smaller boy's lips, pulling him closer. Castiel gave a weak smile, staring at the two boys who were walking away. Dean gently redirected Castiel's attention to him with a finger on his chin. "You alright? What's wrong?" 

"Who were they?" Castiel asked, glancing at them again uneasily. Dean didn't seem to take notice, grinning. 

"Football players. And guess what? They want me to join the team. Said they needed a captain and they know I'm good. Isn't that great?" He smiled wider and pressed a kiss to Castiel's cheek, who smiled back and nodded. 

"That's amazing, but Dean.." Castiel hesitated, biting his lip. "I don't know about them. They give me chills. I don't like them and I don't want you involved with them." Dean's smile vanished and hurt crossed his face. 

"You don't want me to join?" 

"I didn't say that, Dean. I just said that they give me a bad vibe. I wouldn't trust them." 

"It's not like you're going to be associating with them." Dean took a step back, away from Castiel. "Why does it matter who I hang out with? Don't tell me who I can and can't be with." 

Castiel frowned but didn't step forward, not wanting to upset his boyfriend more. "I'm not, Dean, I'm just saying that I've had bad feelings about other things before and I-" 

"You didn't do anything about it because you're too weak and afraid," Dean spat, completely upset with the fact that Castiel wouldn't support him. "You know how much I've wanted to be in football. Why won't you just support me?" 

"Dean.. I just don't want you to be around those two. They can't be good." He ignored Dean's first comment despite how much it hurt him. "Please, I don't want to see you get hurt." 

Dean shook his head, slamming his locker. "I won't. You know why? Because you're just overreacting and you don't want to face the problem. Well I'm not afraid. I'm joining the team whether or not you support me. This is what I want, Cas." 

Castiel swallowed hard before turning and leaving, shocking both Castiel and Dean.


	2. Misled Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three year old Castiel is led astray by a creepy old man while his mother is oblivious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Kidnapping, hints of more sinister things. Honestly, this is just creepy. 
> 
> This work was meant to be something larger, but this could stand on its own. 
> 
> Unrelated to all other chapters. 
> 
> Titled Cas Taken From The Bar in my computer. 
> 
> Word count: 721

Castiel was young when it happened. His mother was busy chatting with the bartender about how lame men were, downing one of her many shots that she would consume that night. Castiel had been brought along, and was simply just standing beside the bar stool, one hand hanging onto the billowy dress his mother wore as he looked around. Many of the people around them were drunk or on their way to being drunk, ordering more drinks and trying to work up the courage to talk to pretty girls. 

Castiel catches the man's eyes after only a few minutes since they got to the bar. He's not the most attractive looking man with his dark hair, just slightly graying at the top of his head, and dark eyes that sent shivers down Castiel's back. He wasn't too tall, nor wide, but he looked strong and menacing, and Castiel didn't like to look at him too much. 

He turned his eyes away and stared at the pretty polka dots on his mother's dress. The next time he looked up, the man was gone, his drink left on the bar table. Castiel pushed him out of his mind as he looked back up at his mother, still engrossed in her conversation. Not once did she glance down to make sure her son was still beside her. 

Castiel shivers when a hand is set on his shoulder, large and cold, causing him to look up. The man is standing there, a wicked grin on his face. "Hello, little boy," he says as he bends down to be more level with the small child. Castiel doesn’t say anything, just looking at him with his wide, blue eyes, so full of innocence. The man found that the most attractive about the child-how completely innocent he was and how badly he wanted to wreck that innocence. 

"How old are you, baby?" He asked, his hand cupping Castiel's pudgy cheek. Castiel didn't move, didn't flinch at all. He held up three of his small fingers to the man, who grinned, showing off his yellow teeth. "Three years old? What a big boy you are!" He tried to get the child to smile, but Castiel showed no emotion. "Is this your mommy?" He motioned to the women too busy to realize some creep was talking to her son. Castiel nodded and looked up at her. The man gently tilted the boy's head back to look at him, the grin still curled on his lips. "Where's your daddy? Did he run away? Did he die?" Castiel gave him no answer. 

The man wasn't discouraged, patting Castiel's head. "Would you like to go and see daddy?" He asked. Castiel's eyes brightened, nodding quickly as he looked up at the man. He laughed softly. "Come on, I'll take you to him." 

Castiel hesitated, looking up at his mother. He was about to tug on her dress to let her know he'd be leaving, but the man grabbed his hand before he could. "No, you can't tell her. Your mommy can't come with us, sweetie. Just the two of us," he told the child, gently removing his hand. "Come on, let's go." He held the boy's hand and led him away from his mother and to the door of the bar. 

Castiel glanced back at his mother as he was led out, being tugged often because he was too slow. The man was anxious to get out of the bar without scaring the kid, not wanting to cause a scene. The child was too perfect to lose now. The moment they reached cool air of the outside, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Come on, baby, it's over here," he urged, leading Castiel to a minivan with dark tinted windows. He opened the sliding door, revealing a car seat he had bought a week prior for this specific reason. "Here, I'll help you get buckled, okay?" He reached down, picking Castiel up and setting him in the seat, gently buckling him into the seat. Castiel stared up at him with his pretty blue eyes. 

The man leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Castiel's forehead. "Let's go home, okay, baby? From now on, I'm your daddy." He smiled at the sweet little boy another time before he closed the door of the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the darker things I've written. It still creeps me out. 
> 
> This was meant to be part of a full story, where Cas doesn't remember his mother and he eventually learns about what happened. It was going to deal a lot with abuse, especially sexual abuse. 
> 
> (Secretly, I'm glad that I never finished)


	3. Restless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is woken in the middle of the night by his frantic mother, who has only bad news about his boyfriend, Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is unfinished and ends abruptly. 
> 
> Unrelated to all other chapters
> 
> Titled Crippled Cas Thing in my computer
> 
> Word count: 1,100

Dean was in the middle of a good dream when he was shaken awake. Mary Winchester was leaning over him, her golden blonde hair framing her face so beautifully that Dean thought she was an angel with her white, silk nightgown. However, the tears that streaked her cheeks and the horrible sobs that were coming from her mouth made him realize that this was his mother and not an angel. "Mom? What's wrong? Why are you crying?" 

One glance at the clock told him that it was after eleven at night, which only confused him more on what was going on. "Oh, Dean! It's horrible! Just awful! Oh, the poor boy!" She sobbed, one hand rubbing at her cheeks. She made no sense to Dean, but dread settled in his stomach and made its home there. 

"Mom, slow down, please. What's going on?" He asked, sitting up and gently taking one of her hands in his. 

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. It's Cas." 

Dean's blood ran cold, his body coiling in fear. What had happened to his long term boyfriend? Was he hurt? Did he get beat up? Was he here in the house? "What about Cas?" He whispered, his whole body tense as he waited for her answer. 

"Hurry! Get your shoes on and go to the car." Then she ducked out of the room in the next moment, leaving Dean to panic about what was going on. Quickly, he slipped into shoes and threw on a shirt before rushing down the stairs and out to the car where John Winchester sat with the car running, little thirteen year old Sam curled up in the back seat. Dean's brother was asleep and it was obvious that John had just grabbed him and rushed out, blanket and all. 

Mary came rushing out of the house a moment later, a sweater wrapped around her thin frame as she hopped into the passenger side. John started backing out of the parking lot the moment her door closed, both of the adults seeming to be in a panic. It scared Dean and he desperately wanted to know where they were going and what had happened to his boyfriend. 

"Mom, dad, what's going on? Where are we going? What's wrong with Cas?" He asked, leaning forward and resting both of his hands on the backs of their chairs. He looked between the two of their faces, his stomach tying itself in knots. 

"Cas is in the hospital, Dean," John spoke softly, gripping the steering wheel tight between his hands. Dean's stomach dropped and he felt sick. "He was in a car crash and they rushed him to the hospital in critical condition." Tears welled in Dean's eyes, a lump forming in his throat. Castiel, the one that he could rely on his whole life, was lying in the hospital with the risk of dying. 

The rest of the ride was eerily quiet, both of his parents trying to hold back their tears, Dean just sitting and crying quietly while Sam breathed softly from where he was still asleep. The ride to the hospital seemed like a matter of seconds to Dean, and before he knew it, he was popping open the door frantically and throwing himself out of the car, feet already racing towards the hospital. 

Dean skitted to a stop at the front desk. "Castiel Novak?" He breathed out, his face a mess with tears and snot, but he really couldn't care. The woman gave him a sympathetic look. 

"He's in the ICU, they're working on trying to stabilize him," she said softly, and Dean felt his knees tremble. "His mother is fine, though, and I think she'll be able to get out of the hospital around noon tomorrow." Numbly, Dean nodded and stepped back as he saw his parents enter the building, John carrying a still sleeping Sam. 

Dean didn't need to say anything as he dropped into his mother's arms, who held him tight against her chest and stroked his hair. Neither of them said anything to him, and Dean was grateful for that. 

\--

It was around four in the morning when the doctors were finally able to stabilize Castiel enough to allow him in a room with his mother, though he had to be hooked up with life support. The thought of his boyfriend, who had been so strong as he overcame all the struggles life threw his way, needing a machine to keep him alive made Dean feel sick, and he was sure that he would have thrown up had he not been holding his brother for dear life. 

At first they didn't allow Dean or his family to see Castiel, saying how they only wanted Castiel's family to see him for the time being. However, after several missed calls to the Novak house over the course of three hours, they reconsidered what they had said and allowed two people to see Castiel at one time. Dean went first with his mother. 

Mary had grabbed the trash bucket the moment that they stepped into the room, and Dean was grateful for it when he took a look at Castiel. He emptied the contents of his stomach into the trash while his mother rubbed his back gently and kissed the top of his head. 

Only after his stomach was empty did Dean dare to look over at the body in the bed. Castiel was pale, paler than Dean could ever remember him being. If Dean had just casually looked over at Castiel, he could have mistaken his boyfriend for just the sheets. There were tubes hooked up all over, coming from his mouth, an oxygen tube to his nose. He had needles in his arms and hands, attached to bags that were steadily dripping into his body. 

Bruises littered Castiel's skin, showing up perfectly with his pale complexion. His body looked absolutely sickly, especially with all the white bandages wrapped around various areas that Dean thought were covering scratches and gnashes, including his head. 

His arm was wrapped with a cast, as well as his leg and knee on the same side. The heart monitor that was hooked up to him was steady and even, but it caused Dean's chest to tighten at the thought that there were machines causing it to keep beating. Castiel would be dead without all these machine, and it made Dean sick. 

"Oh, mom," he whimpered as she wrapped her arms around her son, "look at him. Look at my baby." Tears welled in his eyes as he kept his eyes on his boyfriend,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember my plans with this one, but I do know that Cas was going to end up being crippled after he gets out of the hospital. Other than that, I have no idea what else was going to happen. I'm not sure I knew when I wrote this, either.


	4. More Than Smoking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel meets someone interesting while working at the gas station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is unfinished and ends rather abruptly, which will be a theme with most of these stories.
> 
> Unrelated to all other chapters.
> 
> Titled Gas Station Thing Destiel in my computer.
> 
> Word count: 882

The first time Castiel saw Dean Winchester, the green eyed boy had a cigarette hanging between his lips, and his fingers were fiddling with a lighter. Cas watched as the boy lifted a hand to pull the object from his mouth, his lips forming an 'o' as he breathed smoke out, letting the white substance swirl around his head before it disappeared. He was leaned against the brick wall of the gas station Cas was working at, not allowed to come inside until the cigarette was gone. 

Cas watched him, feeling his mouth go dry. This boy was the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen in his entire life, and Cas had seen a lot of beautiful teenagers go through the city. Castiel lived just on the edge of the city of Sioux Falls, an area that was more deserted than the rest of the large city, so they mostly just had hotels for travelers to stay. Cas didn't mind, though, he loved living here where he got to hear all kinds of stories from strangers. 

He remembered hearing stories from an old man who had broken down in tears because he didn't have enough money to buy a small hot chocolate. Cas had stepped in and bought him a large and helped him into his car while the man thanked him over and over with more tears. He had told Cas that he had just lost his wife to cancer, and the bills had caught up quick to him that he didn't have time to run to the bank and pull more cash out to get anything big. He had promised that he'd come back and pay Cas back for the coffee, but Cas had insisted that he didn't want to be paid back. 

Castiel's thoughts were interrupted by the tinkle of the bells on the front door, signaling that someone had come in. It was the boy from outside, the one who had been smoking. Cas' heartbeat picked up as he realized they were the only two in the small building, as the station couldn't afford to hire more than one person for every shift. Cas didn't mind, he liked to work alone. 

"Good afternoon," Cas greeted with a smile, straightening his blue vest. He hoped that his hair wasn't as messy as it usually was. The other boy stared at him for a moment before his lips curled into a small smile, and his green eyes scanned Cas' body. Cas felt himself blush, feeling self conscious. 

"Good afternoon indeed," he spoke, his voice deeper than Cas had thought it would be. The boy's eyes lingered on him for another moment before he turned his head and wandered out of sight, behind a shelf. Cas let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his hands nervously fiddling with a pen he had on the counter. He wasn't sure what it was about this boy that made him nervous, but he kind of liked it. 

Cas shifted on his feet, legs aching from standing up all day. He had gotten here just before five in the morning, when they opened, and would be here until five in the evening. Working for twelve hours at a time was tough, but Castiel loved it. None of the other workers had been available today, so Cas didn't have much of a choice but to work. 

Suddenly, a bag of chips, three bags of assorted gummy candies, a pecan pie slice, and two root beers were set onto the counter, and the boy was standing there, a grin on his face, showing his teeth. "You eating this all by yourself?" Cas teased as he started to scan each of the items, "because that wouldn't be good for your health." The other boy chuckled, and Cas felt his knees go weak at the sound. It was one of the best noises he'd ever heard. 

"Nah. I'm sharing with my brother, Sam," the boy stated, placing his hands on the counter. Cas nodded, ringing up the total and telling the green eyed male. He handed the money over and took his items, glancing at Cas' name tag. "Thank you. . . Castiel." 

Blushing at the sound of his name on the other's tongue, Cas smiled. "You're welcome." 

"Mind if I call you Cassie?" 

Cas blushed darker, because did this really good looking boy want to give him a nickname? Cas wasn't sure if he could get any darker in the face. "Okay," he spoke lamely. The other boy didn't seem to mind, though, as his smile grew. 

"Cool. See you later, Cassie," he bid goodbye, giving Cas a small wave before he was out the door, leaving Cas to wonder whether he'd actually see the boy again or not. 

~~

At five fifteen, Crowley, one of Cas' coworkers, came to take over, late as always. He was smoking a cigarette as he came, but put it out before he entered the gas station. He smiled at Cas like he always did, giving the younger boy a wave as he headed to the back room to get changed into his uniform. Cas sighed and rubbed his eyes, glad to be off of work. He, too, headed to the backroom to talk to Crowley before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really remember too much about this story other than I've attempted to write it several times. I think that Castiel was living with his adoptive father, Bobby, and Sam and Dean came to stay with Bobby and then, you know, Destiel.

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, Castiel falls into a coma from an accident, and he relives most of his important memories. When Castiel tries to wander away from his memory self, he finds that everything disappears. This is because he does not know what happened in the past, so he does not know in the future, either. If he did not know information at the time the memory took place, than his viewing self does not know either. Same with all papers he never saw in the past. 
> 
> I haven't written on this one in a long time and will probably never finish because I don't remember where I was going to go on with this, not to mention I don't remember writing most of this. 
> 
> Check out my [tumblr](https://cherriontopx.tumblr.com/)


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